DA The McDowell Books: Five: Mother, May I
by 00Tyler00
Summary: While ITU’s team undertake the task of sifting though the blacklisters, Brac embarks on his first mission for the ITU…with Alec as his shadow. But are Max and Alec’s fears validated when a dark figure from their past shows up seeking revenge?


_I apologize for the delay in getting this one out! Some unexpected problems cropped up at work and stress-levels being at an all-time high, my creative pool was severely stagnated, lol. But here it is, at long last! Hope you enjoy it - and please, review! (By the way, a little warning - this is a tad darker then some might like, but for those of us who love a little angst, I'm going out on a limb here. It's not all that bad, but...you've been warned :P) -- 00Tyler00_

**The McDowell Books**

**By Tyler**

**Disclaimer**: DA and all its characters are the property of James Cameroon. The infant characters of Brac and Nyx were originally created in a fic by Valjean.

**Basic Outline**: Set fourteen years after Freak Nation. Max and Alec have been partners for thirteen years, still living in a largely-functional and swelling Terminal City. The Familiars are no longer at large although they still hunt transgenics with a passion. The world view on transgenics is now officially tolerant, although a great deal of the ex-Manticore creations still choose to reside in TC to live their lives free of discrimination. Max and Alec are largely still the heads of operation at TC, and balance their work lives with the raising of their two children, Brac (13) and Nyx (11).

**Book Five in the McDowell series**: While ITU's team undertake the hazardous task of sifting though the blacklisters, Brac embarks on his first mission for the ITU…with – unbeknownst to him- Alec as his shadow. But are Mac and Alec's fears validated when a dark figure from their past shows up to throw a spanner in the works?

**Mother, May I**

Alec glanced at Max. She knew that look – the dull impatience in his heavy-lidded eyes, the wry purse of his lips.

It blatantly demanded 'can I kick it in?'

Max shook her head then widened her eyes sternly as Alec pouted in disagreement. He cast the rigid, unwelcoming door standing stock-closed in front of them with a scowl of disapproval and then turned back to his mate with a spreading of his hands.

"So what, we just wait it out?" Alec sounded about as frustrated as the expression on his face suggested.

"No, we…"

"Max, they're wastin' our time here!"

"They're not _in_, Alec!" Max persisted as she surveyed the empty front room through the net curtains, "You're not gonna tell me Kurt and Tina somehow sniffed onto us comin' and holed up cuz they suspected being framed for the Horn assassination!"

"I wouldn't put it past'em." Alec muttered as he threw one last scrutinizing glare at the rickety semi-detached house before following Max back through the scanty garden and onto the main road once more

"Well all the same, I left a calling card." Max had a knowing smile on her face which Alec had the presence of mind to associate with brewing trouble.

"And what was that?" Alec queried with a worried raise of his eyebrows as he glanced back at the abandoned house and then down at his mate.

"You'll hear about it when they call us back." Max responded calculatingly, then looked up and flashed Alec an obnoxious grin – her version of his own. "Oh c'mon, Alec, trust me!"

"Only thing I wanna do when I see that look on your face is run, Maxie, fast and hard!" Alec informed her as he wrapped an arm around Max's small shoulders and pulled her closer to him as they walked. "When can we go home? It's almost six and it's gettin' dark to boot."

"Since when did that ever stop us from prowling the hoods?" Max shook her head at the fresh renewal of Alec's whine, "We've only made two visits in seven hours and we gotta make fifteen o' those before we call it quits on this thing!"

"Yeah well there ain't a time limit," Alec retorted sourly as they approached their motorcycles and frowned in unison at a scruffy tramp who stood drooling over the Ninjas from a distance. "We can cover half of those tomorrow cuz the banks are closed and all these 'productive members of society' will be loungin' at home."

"No, they'll be with their families cruisin' the highway to the nearest beach." Max voiced the proclamation with a pensive air that suggested she was wishing the McDowell clan could join the Bank Holiday rush. "C'mon, if we score one more visit, we can head on home."

Max was fully aware how edgy this sort of business made Alec. Sifting through reams of former reprobates and scraping their boots on the about-facers' changes with a less-then-veiled accusation was proving itself to be a bitch of an assignment. Max and Alec had worked with virtually all of the said ex-malefactors personally over the years, and had either re-deposited them on the path of the straight and narrow, or been forced to stand back and let the long arm of the law do its job.

It was a delicate issue at best, and a painful and dangerous one at worst – depending on the individuals. So far the two visits made had been brief and to the point…Tess, a twenty-one year old that had been in and out of rehab for seven years, and Lute, a Psy-Ops prodigy with a penchant for diamonds and bad-ass temper.

Both X6s had been hurt but not surprised by Max and Alec's queries regarding any part they may have had in the Horn incident. They were aware of their less-then-shining records and that knowledge, along with their great respect for Alec and Max, had been the rudder keeping the conversation from the rocky shoals of bitter fury.

The X5s knew that it was the only the beginning however, and were, in their own separate ways, attempting to cope with the fact that things were very likely going to spiral downhill from then on.

Neither of them were liking that concept one little bit.

The sound of Alec revving his bike into action broke into Max's reverie, and she quietly followed suit as they pulled out onto the main road.

Max frowned at Alec's leather-clad back as he swerved his bike down the highway leading to Terminal City. _What does that stubborn fool doing? If he thinks he's getting outta this last visit, he's got another thing comin' his way! _

"Hey!" Max yelled, pumping up the speed on her bike to swerve it alongside her mate's. Alec glanced briefly at her but didn't ease up on the speed – or the route. "We need to be heading towards the Community Centre- that's where Faye works and she's our last hit for the day!" Max insisted with a scowl that suggested Alec had better pull a U-turn and fast, or a horrific calamity might befall his precious Ninja sooner rather then the later he was always tripping about.

"We're bein' tailed!" Alec's succinct response blared over the wind cover as he kept his eyes – and vehicle – plowing steadily onward.

"What?" Max felt her eyebrows narrow sharply, and Alec shook his head.

"Five o'clock in the fast lane!" He stated with a slight nod of his head in the direction, "Guy's been on our heels since Sector 3."

Max stole a glance behind her and raised an eyebrow at the incoming traffic, "The mo-ped?" She yelled back at Alec, referring to the lone biker cruising round the cars from an unobtrusive distance.

"Yeah, grey Toyota ride – smacks of stealth," Alec was squinting, both against the billowing wind caressing their faces and in an expression of grand displeasure, "I'm bettin' Private Investigator!"

"Ugh, I hate those guys!" Max rolled her eyes as she switched gears to follow Alec as her mate slowed his pace in an effort to test their stalker. "Some fat ol' snake of a politician's just itchin' to get some dirt on ITU's members so hires Irving the Investigator to hang outside our window and snap some shots of you and Brac slinging salami at each-other!"

Alec pursed his lips and eyed Max critically, "Do you have to bring that one up _every_ time the topic of PR is mentioned?" He knew she was referring to the _one_ time Seattle News managed to smuggle an undercover reporter into TC. Sporting the disguise of a cat-faced nomalie, the agent had dangled from the roof for a full hour outside of the McDowell's window and captured some highly-incriminating footage of Alec and Brac engaging in a food fight with a stack of rotten salami wraps.

It had taken ITU's Head of Affairs a while to live that one down.

"So you wanna head for home then?" Max threw back a question of her own and ignored Alec's sulky remark.

"Well it's either that or let whoever's tailing us get the juice on Faye!" Alec shrugged and gripped the handles of his bike tighter as their exit approached.

"More like let Faye get the juice on _them_!"

"True," Alec yelled back with a wry snort, "I wouldn't wish that chic on any o' my enemies, White excluded of course!"

Max hazarded another quick look at the biker. They had matched the X5's speed and were pulling into the exit lane with the precise amount of casual movement as to dance the line of suspicion without crossing into compromise.

_C'mon, bitch – I dare you to follow us into TC!_

Predictably, their stalker did nothing of the sort. But he – or she, or _it_ – did keep Max and Alec's teeth set on edge by tailing them until approximately 50 yards off from the gates of Terminal City itself.

Alec's knuckles were hidden beneath the material of his biking gloves, but Max didn't need to see them to guess at how white Alec's grip was turning the darn things. He was scowling acidly at the image of the biker in his rearview mirror and seemed impatient to put the fencing of TC between him and his mate and Mr. Mo-ped as quickly as was possible.

The moment the gates were opened, Alec ushered Max's bike through before taking up her back, keeping a wary eye on the silently observing figure as he did so. Oddly enough, the second both X5s pulled into TC, the rider swerved and retreated in what seemed like silent satisfaction – as though he had been watching to ensure Max and Alec's safe return home.

For some reason, that did little to tickle either Alec or Max's funny bones. They drove through the City in relative silence, neither one attempting to broach the subject of the mystery tailer out loud but grappling with matching mental whirlwinds of fears and theories regarding the identity.

_The government, the terrorists, the traffickers, the media…the Conclave…._

_The Conclave…_

_Please God, not those shit-heads again._

Once their Ninjas were safely stowed away, Alec and Max trudged the dimly-lit flight of stairs to their apartment, the relief both should have been feeling at being home after a long, hard day completely shrouded by the haunting image of a lone, grey vehicle and its helmeted rider.

Their front door flew open before Max even had a chance to knock. Brac's tall frame stood in the doorway, eyes shining with a ferocious eagerness that nearly sent his parents staggering backwards.

"Hey sweetie, how was the bake sale?" Brac hurried out one of his trademark greetings and moved aside to let Alec and Max into the flat. He was leaning on the one crutch that he now used to get around as his knee made rapid progress.

Brac was grinning from ear to ear and his green eyes were bright with tentative enthusiasm. Alec and Max weren't sure whether they were meant to be overjoyed or completely terrified by this drastic shift in their sullen teenager's countenance.

They exchanged a quick glance and opted for cautious mirth. Alec's grin spread slowly but surely across his lips and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he relieved Max of her backpack and closed the door behind them.

"Just fine, and how was _ballet_ practice?"

"Slightly hampered by the fact the kid couldn't do more then hop on a leg." Mole's drawl echoing from the sofa heightened the anarchy of the moment, and the lizard-like nomalie threw back his head and laughed at Alec and Max's startled-rabbit expressions. "But we managed a pirouette, all the same!"

"Mole…well this is an unexpected surprise!" Alec's smirk vanished suspiciously, "Thought we were gonna touch base about the rounds tomorrow mornin'!"

Max was looking from Brac's ever-present grin to Mole's knowing leer with a bewildered crinkle of her nose as she unzipped her jacket and pulled it off her shoulders, "Staying for dinner, Mole?"

"Nah, thank you but I'll pass." He responded curtly as he played with the unlit cigar in his fingers, "Puffer here and I got a date in an hour and I would hate to stand her up!"

Max nodded with a smile that subliminally thanked the nomalie for adhering to her and Alec's indoor-smoking ban, and grabbed her mate's jacket from him as she hung both on the coat rack. "So, what gives?"

"Ah Brac and I got somethin' to yap with you two about, and it can't really wait, so…" Mole was nodding at the couch to his left with a not-so-subtle insistence.

"Now?" Alec raised his eyebrows dubiously and cast a longing glance in the direction of his power shower.

"C'mon, Dad, it'll only a take a minute!" Brac almost sounded pleading, "Well, hopefully at any rate." He added with a knowing wink at his mother, and Max rolled her eyes at the jibe at her alleged long-windedness.

Alec sighed compliantly at the begging peal to his son's voice, remembering that it had been a _very_ long time since Brac had asked to speak with his parents at all, and resolving without hesitation (but a small amount of grudging) that this really _couldn't_ wait.

"Fine – as long as you sit your ass down and get the weight off that leg." Alec moved to hold Brac's arm and help him to the sofa, but the boy recoiled – not blatantly, but just enough of a withdrawal to be evident.

Brac hadn't allowed his father to touch him since the incident with Nyx and was even careful about proximity in case the event could occur. But today, the kid caught himself and shot Alec a brief, apologetic smile.

"I'm cool, I can do it." Brac moved to the sofa and eased himself into it with a small amount of difficulty. He had picked up the full range of crutch-use pretty darn quick – a record ability for practical learning ran hot in his blood…a little genetic gift from father to son.

"Okay well let's make this snappy then, cuz dinner's on the stove." Max stated somewhat wearily as she noted the frothing pot and looked around for the truant cook. "Where's Nyxie?"

"In the bathroom. Alright, so here's the deal." Brac had barely waited for his parents to sit down before he cut to the chase. "There's a memorial dinner at the Seattle Marriot on Tuesday for Gareth Horn. A couple big cheeses are turnin' up, but it's mostly low-scale – you know, a greasy fry-up slapped onto a Wal-Mart plate and sold for 300 bucks to Sally Sucker."

"Brac!" Max chided from behind a tight set of lips repressing an urge to laugh, "Don't make light of the dead."

"Sorry." Brac's instant recant set his mother on hyper-alert. The boy rarely felt the need to apologize for a wisecrack on the best of days – and he hadn't been having any of those recently. "Anyway, point being that CATL's got the events schedule hotwired to morph the evenin' into a benefit dinner for the furthering of their oh-so-righteous cause."

"Big surprise." Alec contributed dutifully, all the while scrutinizing Mole from the corner of his eye to ascertain exactly what angle his scaled pal was going from. Mole and Brac had been at each other's throats for a full year and a half – whatever cause had managed to conjoin the two would be a killer.

"Yeah well there's most likely gonna be a big name-the-blame-game goin' down that night and we're seeing ITU all over it." Mole ignored the uncomfortable pinpoint of Alec's stare as he added his ten cents, "So what we were figurin' is a couple o' us slip in under cover and get the scoop. Least that way we'll be prepared for whatever accusations CATL's gonna be hurlin' our way soon enough."

Max shrugged with a raise of her eyebrows as she jutted out her bottom lip, "Makes sense to me."

"It's Jace's shift next." Alec was sporting a gleeful smirk at the idea of his fellow X5 spending a dismal evening amidst a crowd of mournful, spite-ridden activists while Jace endeavored to behave accordingly.

"He's already agreed to go." Mole nodded, pleased with the smooth current flowing blissfully to the waterfall of the nomalie's monster scheme. "Here's the cincher, though. Horn's daughter is gonna be attendin' the event with her family. Now the police reports state that Sharlie Horn was at her soccer club durin' the time her daddy was murdered. But," Mole raised his eyebrows and paused for emphasis before continuing, "one eyewitness account declared that she happened to be home at the time."

"So what, you're sayin' she did it?" Alec's eyebrows creased with skepticism, and Mole and Brac shook their heads in unison.

"I'm sayin' if that's the case, then the kid knows somethin' she ain't tellin'. And I intend to find out exactly what that is!" Mole was rolling his unlit cigar between his finger and thumb impatiently.

"Okay, so how you doin' that?" Max queried with narrowed eyes that suggested she agreed with Lizard-boy's point but was finding no plausible means of enacting it.

"Sharlie's a fourteen year-old girl whose daddy just got killed. Now obviously she ain't gonna be openin' up to any random stranger, but if we plant the right hook and they know how to strut the bait," Mole wiggled his eyebrows, "more likely then not she'll bite."

"Again, what's your game plan?" Max threw an impatient glance Alec's way and was intrigued to see her mate's eyes tapered in intense contemplation. Alec was on to something.

"Way I see it," Mole announced, leaning back and placing a couch cushion behind his head lackadaisically, "We don't send one agent. We send two."

"Who?" Alec queried in a stern voice as his eyes locked with Mole's and held them relentlessly.

"Jace and Brac." Mole drawled in reply, and Max's eyes widened. Damn. She hadn't seen that one coming.

"Yeah, or not." Alec had, however. And the X5 had already made up his own stubborn mind on the topic. His opinion echoed his mate's, though – and Alec knew as much. Ripe concerns for their family's security were cropping up fresh in both of their minds as a result of the mystery stalker. Sending Brac to the Marriot would have been a 'no can do' regardless, however.

"_Why_ not?" Brac was inquiring with a tight-lipped expression that suggested he was carefully modulating his outrage to match the platonic guise he had adopted.

"I'll answer that question with another one, Brac. You want us to let you _hobble_ into a nest full of CATL zealots?" Alec replied matter-of-factly before turning and stabbing a finger at Mole, "You, outside now. We need to talk!"

"Whatever you got to say to me can be said right here and now." Mole stated defiantly, planting both boots on the coffee table and raising his eyebrows staunchly at Alec as the X5 rose to his feet.

"No it can't. C'mon, let's go." Alec turned and headed purposefully towards the front door without another word.

"How can you just say 'no', like you've actually stopped and freaking thought the whole thing through?" Brac demanded with a justified air of annoyance as Max motioned at Mole with her head for the man to follow Alec – or else.

"We have, Brac, believe me – many times!" She responded, the irritation crackling in her voice aimed solely at Mole. The nomalie had played a horribly unfair card in presenting the idea to them in front of their son. "Look you _know_ why it's hard for us having you and Nyx outside of TC at any given time…"

"Yeah I know, because we're gonna be _snatched_, Mom, right?" Brac snapped with a sarcastic scowl, "I mean, everyone and their dog is just _pining_ to get their hands on the pair of us!"

"It isn't some bogus paranoia, Brac!" Max insisted crossly, her tone taking on its 'bitch bite' as Alec dubbed it. "Regardless of your _intense_ desire to be like every other Arnie Adolescent out there, the fact is you're _not_ – at least not as far as our enemies are concerned!"

"Oh yeah, they're _our_ enemies!" Brac scoffed acidly as Mole headed laughingly after Alec and left the mother to his sidekick. "Right, because _I_ torched Manticore, kidnapped White's son and told the Special Forces where to go!"

Max felt the double-barreled truth of Brac's statement with a painful jolt. She inhaled and blew out her hurt as she held her son's reproachful, injured stare with one of her own. "Well I'm sorry you got the raw end of the deal, Brac, but that's just the way it is. Your dad and I know we're responsible for a lot of things, but like it or not, you and Nyx are the two most important…"

"Well if my safety is so important to you, why don't you consider lettin' me breathe free air for just _one_ evening so I can help get the CATL off of our backs?" Brac interrupted sharply, and Max shook her head.

"Look, it's a good plan in theory, but there's a major risk factor involved and that's what's got your dad and I on edge. We're not happy about it either!"

Brac snorted as Nyx invaded the war zone to check on the boiling pot mounted on the stove, eyes carefully avoiding the pair seated on the sofa, "Yeah Dad's real beaten up about sayin' 'no', in't he?"

"What in the hell were you thinkin'?" Alec's voice and facial expression emanated calm control hemmed with ire. He was eyeing Mole, arms crossed, back against the door that lead in the apartment.

"You're the one who needs the freaking Cat-scan!" Mole retorted coolly as he lit up his cigar with unrestrained relish.

"Where do you get off askin' me and Maxie that kind of a question in front of our kid, huh?" Alec demanded icily, green eyes shooting daggers, "You wanna spring somethin' like that on the two of us, you do it in private - you got that? I'm not gonna have you makin' us out to be the bad guys in front of Brac just so you can railroad something through!"

Mole grunted in annoyance, "The two o' you are just too damn stubborn for your own good, not to mention the good of the union…"

"I'm not sayin' we can't send two plants, Mole!" Alec barked, eyes flashing, "Just sayin' that my son's not gonna be one of'em! It's like wavin' a red flag in front of a bull for any of White's people, not to mention the activists themselves!"

"You really are getttin' paranoid in your old age, you know that?" Mole stated bluntly as he puffed on his cigar and let loose a billow of smoke to envelop the scathing X5 in front of him, "Brac'll be with Jace in a hotel function suite for a couple hours max – full security on the place and sweeps on every guest in attendance! And they won't even need to stay for the full duration – 'specially if it's Brac. That kid's got charm and you know it! He'll have Sharlie Horn wrapped around his pinkie within ten minutes flat!"

Alec had to grudgingly acknowledge the simple genius of Mole's strategy. Horn's daughter would be a wellspring of information if manipulated appropriately into forthcoming by somebody her own age. Brac would take the cake, hands down, as far as eligibility for that particular assignment went.

All the same, it would be like moving a Bishop out from the cover of the King and Queen to take out another of its kind. Alec and Max only had two Bishops, and would be damned if they lost them to a Knight – even worse, a Pawn.

"You can't keep shelterin' the kid like this, Alec." Mole's quiet insistence returned Alec to reality as the nomalie eyed him seriously, "He's already growin' up to hate who he is and if you and Max keep coddlin' him, it's only gonna get worse!"

Alec digested the statement with a purse of his lips as he studied the ground under his feet. Mole took another drag of his cigar and waited patiently. Finally Alec's deep voice spoke up quietly, firmly.

"If he goes, I go with him."

"Not gonna happen, pal." Mole shook his head, "Your face is practically stamped on a nickel – Max's too."

"Not as an attendee!" Alec rolled his eyes at the insinuation that he would really be that stupid, "I'll shadow'em – keep an eye out from the rafters, whatever I can do."

Mole shrugged after mulling over the concept, "Could work out. You're still the best damn stealther we got on hand. What about Max?"

"I'll talk to her. Should be okay." Alec glanced over his shoulder subconsciously as he uttered the statement before his eyes pierced Mole's once more in determination. "It would be best if Brac wasn't aware of my tailin' him."

Mole nodded with a wry grin, "What Junior doesn't know can't hurt him."

Alec felt his eyebrows narrow dubiously at the truth of that sentiment, but shrugged it off with a sigh. "Can you brief Jace on the mission, Mole? I'll take care of the details this end."

"You're doin' the right thing, Golden-boy." Mole encouraged with a friendly jab into Alec's shoulder as he turned to descend the staircase, "Not gonna regret it anytime soon, I promise ya."

_Seein' that glint in your eye, Mole,_ Alec raised an eyebrow and pulled in his lips as he turned to head back inside, _I'm regretting it already_.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Max knew she had asked the question three times in the last three minutes – and judging by her son's impatient sigh, Max deduced that Brac knew it too.

_Well at least there ain't a chance he'll forget his transmitter, _Max soothed her ruffled nerves as she hazarded a glance at Brac's wristwatch. It had been fitted with a micro-chip beacon which would pinpoint its owner's location at any given time. It also monitored heart rates and temperature fluctuations – and subsequently allowed TC central to be about as well-informed in regards to Brac's state of wellbeing as they could be without wiring a camera to his head.

"Well I had a stock of patience, but it sorta depleted the third time you asked me that question!" Brac was laughing with a sharp expression of annoyance etched across his features as he shrugged on his jacket and raised his eyebrows dubiously at his mother. "How do I look?"

Max smiled proudly – she couldn't help it. Brac's black slacks, white, collared shirt and suit jacket complimented the boy's athletic build perfectly. He graced her with a token smirk that noted her approval, and Max appraised the teenage boy standing before her with a silent rejoicing at the fact he was emanating sheer Alec.

_No Ben in you today, Brac. If that keeps up, this'll be the best decision your dad and I ever made!_

"You'll knock'em dead." Max encouraged, fisting Brac's shoulder lightly with a smile as he grinned.

"Hopefully it's not gonna come to that." Brac rolled his eyes at the shadow that crossed over Max's face at the thoughtless remark, "Oh buck up, will you? No cryin' till I'm out the door!"

"You're not a heartbreaker _yet_, kid!" Max retorted with a playfully injured air as she handed Brac his overcoat and saw him to the door where Jace stood waiting. "You remember what we said – you stick within eyeshot of Jace at all times."

"Can we not do this pep-talk thing again? I got it once from Dad and twice from you, which collectively makes for a three-time charm I'm not likely to fob." Brac complained as he adjusted his crutch and nodded eagerly at the dashing X5 who stood at the threshold, "We off then?"

Jace was nodding with a wide grin in Max's direction, eyes piercing straight through her bravado and assuring the apprehensive mother within, "Right on time, too. If we keep up this pace, we should be home in time for the _exceptional_ dinner your mom is gonna grace us with!"

"Alec's makin' burritos, so you'd better be on time." Max was hugging Brac now, feeling the stiffness of his body as he awkwardly returned the gesture.

"Well don't wait up, just in case." Brac pulled away and flashed one last dutiful smile at his mother before he turned and headed to the staircase. "Oh and can you tell Nyxie if she messes with my downloads, she's dead meat?"

Jace winked at Max and patted her shoulder, then followed suit.

As the two disappeared around the corner and their footsteps clanged through the hallway, Max turned away with a nauseous feeling wrenching in her gut.

_Just in case of __what__? _

The lone rider seated astride his drab grey mo-ped eyed the nondescript Volskwagon pull through the gates of TC and careen down the road with purposeful speed. The tint of the biker's helmet cast a shadow over his eyesight but enhanced the only necessary visual – the bulky biking helmet was fitted with a heat sensor that made a transgenic easy pickings.

The beat-up maroon VW held two occupants that both glowed with a flurry of colors on the rider's display screen. He smirked to himself and revved up his bike, picking up their tail as the car rounded a bend and headed down the highway towards central Seattle.

After a bland half-hour cruise, the VW switched lanes to exit the highway – and the rider followed suit without hesitation. He felt his eyes narrow as he glanced up at the green sign hanging above the exit and frowned. The X5 driver was deviating from the original route that his stalker had mapped out as a sure bet. But then again, when did damn transgenic scum ever follow a predictable pattern?

The rider smiled grimly as he adjusted his speed to match the VW's. Trangenics were animals, he reminded himself…which meant that they were always predictable.

Sure enough, the stalker's fresh analysis of the X5's course of action was proven correct as the VW pulled into the lot of a local park. The rider eased his vehicle to a halt a safe distance from the car and watched with gleaming eyes as the older man got out and walked around to the passenger side of the Volkswagen.

Then the tailer felt his heartbeat race as the shotgun door opened and a young boy maneuvered his way out of the car with the help of his superior. There was no mistaking the youth's identity. It had been many years since the biker had laid eyes on Brac McDowell, but time had only served to enhance the striking features which so prominently echoed X5-494.

He grinned malevolently as he watched Brac and Jace make their way casually across the parking lot and then hop into a sleek ebony Mercedes that conveniently awaited them.

_Switching cars?_ The rider shook his head as he watched the transgenic's new vehicle hit the road with renewed gusto. _Go ahead, kid. But you can't switch identities. Not if you intend on fooling me at any rate._

"You got fifteen seconds to get clear of this building or I'll call security on your ass…though knowin' you, Max, you could easily do it in ten!" The angry woman flashed blazing blue eyes and flushing olive skin as she watched Max rise to her feet.

Faye had been a hard nut from the beginning – one of those X5s who had spent over half their time at Manticore in solitary and the other half making up for lost hours by pummeling every living creature within reach. She had globe-hopped after Manticore's demise, leaving a blazing trail of crime in her wake and finally storming the gates of TC in search of X5-494.

Alec hadn't denied Faye's claim to fame – that the two had been paired as breeding partners in a stint that had lasted only a night before he had been transferred to 452. Alec had, however, denied Faye her desire to re-establish old ties and poured cold water on any remaining flames of lust by inviting the woman to dinner at the apartment – and introducing her to Max, Brac and Nyx.

Faye had kept her smarting ego in check and left TC to wreak havoc on its hierarchy…namely the McDowells…with a string of petty crimes and an occasional elaborate theft. Max and Alec had bailed her out of trouble on several occasions, and had followed up their last rescue with a stern warning that if Faye pulled one more stunt, the ITU was wiping their hands of her – permanently.

Faye's corner had been quiet for about five years. But the woman had a bitterness festering inside of her which was making her more dangerous with each passing day, and neither Max nor Alec – much as they hated to admit it – would put Horn's murder past Faye.

"Fine." Max stated calmly, "I'll walk – and you'll die – once the activists get their hands on you. They've probably already earmarked you for the kill what with your infamous history on Seattle PD's record base!"

Faye scowled, "Alec said you cleared those."

"We did!" Max raised her eyebrows with a shrug as she gathered up her bag and prepared to exit the small office which had witnessed the scathing row between her and the defiant X5 before her. "Doesn't mean they don't keep back-ups. Plus word o' mouth's a real bitch to pin down and squelch."

"_You're_ the bitch, _McDowell_!" Faye snapped as she stood up and rested both hands on her desk, "You strut your little ass in here after pretending I don't exist for five years and then accuse me of murder! Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Max glared acidly, "Max _Guevara_…and the next time you wanna call me a bitch, remember who it was that busted your ass outta jail three times in the same freaking month!"

Mac turned and stalked deliberately out of the door, letting it swing shut behind her with a bang. She needed some air…and a really strong coffee. There was a machine just to her left, and Max breathed out a sigh of gratitude as she inserted some coins and selected the meanest kick available – all the while counting down the seconds in her head.

_Five…four…three…two…_

"Max!"

_One_…Max placed a plastic cup under the machine spout and didn't raise her eyes at the peroxide blonde standing gingerly by the door Max had just exited. "What?"

Faye sighed tightly and looked away for a moment before she eyed Max pleadingly, "Got a minute?"

"Not for bein' dissed, I don't." Max responded tartly as she heaped sugar into her espresso and then raised her eyebrows at Faye stonily, "Get enough o' that from the kids!"

Faye winced at the statement and then nodded hesitantly. Max felt her heart almost pulse to a halt as she spotted a glisten of tears in the woman's eyes.

"Speaking of your children…I'd uh…I'd really like a minute."

Brac cast a nervous glance at the confident X5 seated beside him and then squinted at the rearview mirror once more, furrowing his eyebrows and then twisting to look behind him.

"Hey Jace…"

"I see him. Quit starin', you're makin' it worse." Jace's systematic response was uttered from between a casual set of lips. "We're comin' up on the Marriot now and we'll lose him inside. I cased it – the place's a labyrinth."

Brac tightened his lips and drummed on the handle of his crutch uneasily, "Who do you think it is?"

Jace shrugged as he eased the Mercedes to a halt at the lavish front steps of the Seattle Marriot. "Hard to say. I wouldn't worry your head about it, kid. Remember, from this point on, you're no longer a transgenic. You're Ryan Partridge and your dad is…?"

"A pain in the frigging ass!" Brac rolled his eyes and tugged at the tie around his neck. From the moment Alec had knotted it at the hollow of his collarbone, the damn thing had made Brac feel claustrophobic. He'd insisted the suit he was sporting was just fine without a tie. Alec - who had switched gears into _executive mode_ after firmly going over the rules of the game with his son – had merely informed Brac that the outfit came with the job and told him to deal with it.

"Ryan…"

"Terry Partridge, rich-ass banker and oil king…" Brac rattled off the information with a sarcastic smile as he checked his reflection in the shotgun overhead mirror, "old college buddy of Gareth Horn's."

"Enough said." Jace raised his eyebrows and nodded as two attendants opened the car doors and stood aside to allow the transgenics to exit.

"Do you require assistance, sir?" One of the valets queried as he caught sight of Brac's rigid leg and the crutch the boy stabbed into the ground.

Jace's breath quickened and he threw a quick glance Brac's way to warn him off against an inappropriate – and characteristic – refusal. He needn't have worried, however. Brac McDowell might have been working overtime recently to hide it, but Alec and Max had instilled a solid foundation of manners and propriety in their children and it surfaced (grudgingly) when the need arose.

"As a matter of fact," Brac was oozing decorum as he accepted the hand the valet was extending to him, "that would be highly appreciated."

Once inside, the X5s located the reception for the Gareth Horn Memorial Dinner and, emanating a quiet arrogance which suggested they owned the world – and consequently allowed the pair to blend in perfectly with the rest of the Marriot crowd – joined the ensemble streaming into the function room.

Brac felt Jace's eyes on him even when the man's blue orbs rested lazily on the burly ushers at the reception. The boy shook his head briefly and inhaled deeply before he pasted on the lackadaisical scowl that screamed 'bored-ass rich kid'.

"Good evening, sir – may I view your invitation?" The stone-faced usher eyed Brac skeptically as the boy limped carelessly towards him.

"That is certainly your job, yes." Brac responded haughtily as he handed the man a golden-rimmed card bearing a holographic sticker on its left-hand side. The doorman raised his eyebrows as he skimmed the name and hazarded a dubious second glance at Brac before nodding him through.

"Welcome, Mr. Partridge. Please help yourself to any refreshments. Our hosts will be delighted that you've come."

Brac smiled with an air of self-importance before he hobbled into the function room. His eyes scanned the black-clad crowd which milled about the suite. Most of them were in varying stages of inebriation, and some chatted loudly amongst themselves while others devoured the sea of appetizers and shed token tears at the widescreen image of Gareth Horn projected on the centre wall.

Out of the 130 people attending, Brac spotted at least ninety-five sporting CATL IDs. He felt like a proverbial Daniel walking straight into the lion's den – except Daniel had had the advantage of two fully functional legs.

"_You're gonna be in a room full o' people who hate everything you are and everything you stand for."_ Alec's matter-of-fact proclamation rang in his son's ears as Brac made his way to the refreshments table after spying Jace enter the room. _"And not only are you gonna have to ignore that, you're gonna have to embrace the way they think and pretend to be one of'em. Now that's somethin' you're gonna seriously have to ask yourself if you can do, Brac. Because if not, if you even show a fraction of resentment or hostility, they'll smell it and you'll be caught before you even __think__ about runnin'."_

Brac raised an eyebrow at the voice inside his head the way he had done when the statement was issued. He groaned inwardly as he heard the sharp _"Brac, I mean it."_ from his sire and mentally reviewed the stern raising of Alec's eyebrows.

_Yeah I got you, Dad – just chill_. Brac squared his shoulders and nodded at a frosty-eyed waiter who was manning the food table. He helped himself to a glass of fruity-looking liquid before turning to scan the room once more for his target.

After a moment of searching and a sip of the (revoltingly sweet) concoction in his glass, Brac smirked narrowly. He had her in his scope now – Sharlie Theresa Horn. At least, that was what her nametag had her earmarked as – and Brac's zoom vision had never failed him to date.

She was a good fifteen meters away from him, standing aloof from a crowd of ashen-faced relatives receiving condolences. Sharlie was eyeing her killer leather boots with a despondent glower that suggested the girl would give anything to be elsewhere, and her dark, made-up lips pouted virulently as she took a token sip of her drink and played with a curl of her harshly-dyed black hair.

Brac raised an eyebrow as he casually made his way towards Sharlie, all the while assessing Jace's location from the corner of his eye. Satisfied that his chaperone was still in visual range, Brac angled his approach on Sharlie to come in from behind.

_This is it, Brac. Work your magic._

Brac held back as an elderly woman set upon Sharlie unawares, causing the girl to jump and scowl ferociously as the woman clasped her hands.

"My dear, how are you holding up? I know this must have come as an awful shock to you!"

Brac resisted the urge to ask the wizened old dame if she had ever attended a funeral before and pressed his lips tightly shut.

"Oh not at all – to be honest my father had so many enemies it was only a matter of time!" Sharlie's sarcastic response did little to unsettle the woman. The old hag merely nodded sagely.

"He was a brave man, your father. We were all so very, very proud of all that he did for CATL."

Brac was chewing his bottom lip so hard that he was afraid he would soon taste blood_. How can someone so old be so blindingly stupid?_

"Well knowing that just…" Sharlie was smiling acerbically now, Brac knew, though her back was turned to him, "really numbs the pain."

"Think nothing of it, my dear." The old woman pressed on, clearly not sensing how dangerously close she was to getting her nose smashed in by the incensed teenager before her, "A friend in need is a friend indeed!"

"A friend with weed is better." Brac quipped, determined to intervene as he saw Sharlie's muscles twitch.

Sharlie paused in the forward lunge she had just been about to make at the old woman's throat to turn and eye the young man behind her with an incredulous air.

"A friend with breasts and all the rest," Brac continued with a perfectly straight face, "A friend who's dressed in leather." He finished with a trademark grin and a raise of his eyebrows as Sharlie's lips slowly coiled into a sneering smirk and the old dame spluttered with outrage.

"I beg your pardon, young man!"

"Would you excuse us, Mrs Hilda – it was lovely seeing you again." Sharlie dismissed the woman with a note of finality, and then glared at her until her request was complied with. Mrs. Hilda cast Brac a deep frown of disapproval before she turned and scuttled off.

Sharlie snorted in her direction before she turned to face Brac, eyeing his nametag with folded arms, "Ryan Partridge. Last time we met you were seven years old and layering my seat with superglue."

Brac's smile widened, "As if you weren't just _basking_ in the attention."

Sharlie raised a razor-thin eyebrow that domed a heavy dose of ebony eye make-up. "Still the same old arrogant smart-ass."

Brac shrugged but didn't deny the accusation – mainly because it actually sounded a lot more like a compliment. "Well all the same…I know you're probably sick of hearing this, but I'm sorry about your dad."

"And I'm sorry about your leg." Sharlie retorted, making her point in one sharp sentence and earning Brac's respect instantly as she glanced over her shoulder then grabbed his arm.

"Come on. You're my date for the evening and your sole purpose for existence is to ensure that I'm _never_ approached and that you get me to laugh at least three times."

"Fair enough." Brac smirked as Sharlie led the pair through a side door and within eyeshot of a ritzy-looking bar-counter. "Just as long as for each of those laughs, you answer a question."

"Deal." Sharlie stated without hesitation as she motioned Brac to a comfortable sofa and indicated he should sit, "I'll be back in a minute.

The refined gentleman in a pre-Pulse vintage Dior suit sipped his champagne and smiled as he watched Brac McDowell's brilliant green eyes consume Sharlie Horn's svelte frame as the young girl sauntered towards the bar. The boy gazed appreciatively at the flattering cut of her sleek black dress before snapping back to reality and glancing over his shoulder.

_Search all you like, Junior._ The man thought with a confident smile as he watched Brac grow increasingly nervous with the realization that Jace had not tailed him as had been the plan. _It's just you and me now._

"Mom?" Nyx traipsed into the front room of the apartment with a sigh of relief as she shook off her coat and tossed her backpack onto the floor, "Dad? I know I'm late but don't be pissed! I went back to Gem's pad and I scored some coffee! Love me and leave me…alone!"

Nyx frowned as her own voice echoed off the walls of their flat and headed cautiously through the house, eyeing the room suspiciously as she continued to call her parents' names.

"Mom? Max McDowell?" Nyx crooned with a measure of false audacity as she poked her head into the hallway and found it deserted and dark. "Okay, you guys can come out now. Pre-school's over for the day!"

"Nyx?" The faint echo of a terrified, oppressed voice made the young girl's skin crawl and she whirled around, fists raised defensively. She staggered back as Max barreled into her, enveloping Nyx in a giant bear hug that crushed the wind out of the girl and left her gasping for air.

"Can't…breathe!" Nyx panted, and Max released her while cupping her daughter's face in her hands and sobbing in relief. Nyx was stunned at the tears flowing freely down her mother's face and instantly blanched with trepidation.

"What happened?"

Max shook her head as she regained her composure, "You're okay…oh thank God you're alright!"

"Mom, look at me – you have to tell me what's goin' on!" Nyx repeated firmly as she gripped Max's shoulders and looked up into her eyes.

"Your brother…" Max seemed to be on a completely different planet as she hurried to the phone and nearly tripped over her own feet as she dialed the numbers, "Come on, someone pick up the fucking phone!" Max yelled after two rings on the other end of the line.

Nyx raised her eyebrows and ran to her mom's side, placing a hand on Max's lean shoulder and feeling the tremble in the woman's frame with sheer fright. "Mom, would you just answer me?! What the hell is going on here? Where's Dad?"

"Back!" Sharlie's husky voice stated brazenly as she sat beside Brac and offerede him one of the two beers she had in tow, "Drink up while it's cold – and cheers!"

Brac smiled and accepted the bottle she was handing him with a skeptical eye, "If I get thrown out for underage drinkin', who exactly do I blame?" He knew that Jace would disapprove of his imbibing on the job – and as for his parents? Max had cautioned Brac about professional conduct being hampered while 'under the influence', while Alec, who had worked jobs similar to the one his son was now embarking on and understood the rules of the game, had taken the more practical route of laying down a one-beer limit for the evening.

"You can blame the barkeep for bein' a dumb-ass." Sharlie informed him as she crossed one leg over the other to reveal a nonchalant patch of fish-netted thigh.

"Actually it seems he was a _smart_-ass for sellin' the First Daughter of the occasion a drink and scoring some brownie points in the process." Brac corrected her and tried not to sound as distracted as he was by the total absence of Jace. Something wasn't right - the hairs on the back of Brac's neck were tingling on edge in a way he didn't like at all.

He'd have to speed things along, and fast.

"He'd be wasting his time if a fat tip was his objective." Sharlie was shrugging caustically as she took a swig of her beer, "My fam isn't coughing up the dough for this event. It's all sponsored by CATL."

"Why's that?" Brac queried as he casually sipped his drink and eyed one particular corner of the room with an unexplained shudder of unease.

"Well my mom says it's a loyal send-off. Me, on the other hand," Sharlie had finished her beer at an alarming rate and was reaching underneath her dress, "I say it's atonement." The young girl eyed Brac steadfastly as she produced a small silver flask from her garter and waved it discreetly at him, "Want a swig?"

Brac cursed inwardly at the undue attention that a bottle of liquor would likely draw at any given moment and shook his head fiercely, "I don't touch that crap. What do you mean, _atonement_?"

"Ugh," Sharlie rolled her eyes and knocked back a mouthful of the strong substance, wincing slightly as she swallowed before turning to Brac, "I mean that the CATL played a major role in my dad's assassination and they know it!"

Brac raised an eyebrow and subtly ensured the recorder on his watch was still in working order. The statement had been leading but not sufficient. He was going to have to pry.

"What, you mean by shunning basic diplomacy and overstepping the line from activists to terrorists?" Brac was now preparing the bait, eyeing the dark-eyed fish prancing in the water at his feet to ensure that now was the time to strike.

Sharlie snorted and took another gulp of alcohol. She had clearly been drinking for quite some time prior to the present and was now falling into the category of 'wasted' with unabashed velocity.

"Nah that's all part and parcel of their grand scheme, ain't it, Ryan? I'm talking about something far more sinister here." The young girl twisted to face Brac with a cold, calculated hatred burning in her dark brown eyes, "I'm talking murdering one of their own to kill a thousand of the enemy."

Brac pursed his lips and leant in closer, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't show you up for the bitter wench you are."

They were bold, harsh words, he knew – and using them was lowering a rancid sort of bait into the water and hoping that the fish was twisted enough to bite. Brac eyed Sharlie icily and waited for the glaring girl to respond. He'd stepped out on a limb he wasn't even sure existed. For the first time, Brac found himself feeling glad about the fact that Jace was no longer around. The X5 would have scolded him profusely about the risk the kid had taken and then reported Brac to Max and Alec for a second dose of said admonishment.

Jace…where the hell was Jace? Something was definitely amiss.

"I can prove it." Sharlie's stony yet determined words were whispered as she held Brac's gaze relentlessly, "I was there."

Brac raised an eyebrow in affected disbelief, "What'd you see?"

"I was heading out for soccer and I missed my bus." Sharlie spat out the words without a hint of sorrow or grief, "Hoyland Tariff murdered my dad and tried to frame a trannie." Suddenly she shrank back in fear and stiffened visibly.

Brac opened his mouth to respond but felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He twisted to face the intruder and looked up at the man standing over him, eyes shrouded by a dark pair of sunglasses and neatly-cropped hair flecked at the edges with tints of grey.

"Well my oh my – how they do grow up fast." The voice was sardonic, cold, ruthless – gleeful. Brac resisted the urge to yank his shoulder away from the stranger's grip and flee the scene as quickly as possible. Instead he smiled caustically and narrowed his eyes into slits.

"I don't believe I know you, sir."

"Oh it's been a very, _very_ long time." The man responded with a grin as he removed his sunglasses and pocketed them carefully before eyeing Brac with a greedy glint in his eyes that sent a chill coursing down the boy's spine. "You were barely knee-high to a grasshopper – though you were still a spitting image of your daddy even then."

Brac felt his insides grow cold and sensed the hot fear pulsing from Sharlie as the hard-boiled girl clutched his hand so tightly that her pallid knuckles turned a whole new shade of white.

"Well in that case, allow me to rephrase - I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your name." Brac went with the flow while subtly arranging his crutch in a position which would allow him to stand…and then to make for the men's toilets. From there, he could find his own way out.

The eerie man snorted and smiled in a depraved manner as he snatched Brac's hand and shook it painfully in his own, "White. Ames White."

The roguishly handsome man in his early thirties knit his eyebrows from behind the elaborate oriental screen which portioned off the waiting area of the Horn suite's restrooms. Flaming green eyes dilated their pupils as they zoomed in and focused on the doorway through which the object of his concern had disappeared a substantial time before.

Alec couldn't ward off the scowl of disapproval that creased his striking features. Brac had been out of Jace's visual range for a good ten minutes now. What the hell was the kid thinking? Brac always had a way of managing to bend the rules – or break them entirely if he thought it would be worth the consequences – but Alec and Max would have recanted their decision instantly if Brac hadn't made a _very_ convincing show of agreeing to the terms they'd laid out.

The normally offhand youngster had even said 'Yes, sir' to Alec.

Twice.

Oh shit. How the hell had Alec fallen for it?

Alec abandoned cover, striding purposefully into the bar room and keeping his eyes peeled for trouble – and Jace. His son's X5 chaperone was nowhere to be seen.

_Fuck_. Alec's heart began to pound in his chest as he picked up the pace, shoving past a tittering group of drunken older women and getting a barrage of nasty looks (and more then one grope) in the process. Not that Alec was even aware of their existence. He felt the heartbeat that had been throbbing in his chest suddenly double its pace.

Through the milling throng of intoxicated guests gathering around the bar, Alec spotted his son. Brac was sitting on a low sofa beside Sharlie Horn, conversing with the imposing man standing over him with an air of caustic causality. At least, that was what any ordinary observer would have deduced.

Alec, on the other hand, felt the rigid terror in his son's eyes and gave the man leering over Brac a once-over. The stranger's back was turned, but something about the stance, the posture, the build – he was familiar.

_And I know him_. Alec narrowed his eyes as he studied the man intently for a moment. _But from where is the question._

Alec started as he realized that Brac's eyes were locking with his and relaying a silent SOS. The youth seemed notably surprised at his dad's sudden appearance but was deriving way too much security from having Alec in the vicinity to appear anything but grateful – and a good deal shaken.

All of this was conveyed from Brac's eyes, of course. His body and face gave off a heavy affectation of indifference as he shifted his gaze from Alec to White and mouthed off something pretentious.

Then the man laughed – and Alec was heading to the scene in a heartbeat. _I know that laugh, you son of a bitch! _

White laughed sardonically. 452's arrogant little offspring had just 'recalled meeting White at a Laker's game two years back' and asked the man 'how his popcorn business was coming along'.

"Let's take a walk." White stated brusquely, his face hardening into a brutal mask of malice as he motioned with his head for Brac to comply with his demand.

Brac raised an eyebrow and snorted, "Oh _really_, Mr. White!" The boy was waving his crutch with a mocking grin of reproach, "I hope you didn't use that sort of dark satire on the Horn's – don't think they'd appreciate it."

Sharlie Horn was still eyeing White as though he were the devil incarnate. "Ryan, I need some air. And since you're still my _date_," She hissed the word with a pointed, raccoon-eyed glare at the Familiar standing over them, "would you mind escorting me to balcony?"

White's victim cracked a very 494 grin at that statement and raised his eyebrows with a sham of an apologetic shrug as he fumbled with his crutch.

White's hand clamping down on his shoulder forced Brac back into his seat before he had even left it.

"Ryan, is it now?" Ames snorted as he took a glance at the nametag on the boy's shirt, "Well I can understand how you'd want to change your name, son. The words 'Brac McDowell' wouldn't exactly inspire a great deal of cordiality," White stole a triumphant leer at Sharlie, who was scowling at her date with open-mouthed disbelief, "Especially not in this particular environment!"

"Neither would a body hittin' the floor with a bullet in its spine."

The voice which spoke was quiet, measured – deadly. So was the feel of a silenced muzzle pressing firmly into the hollow of White's back.

The Famliar smiled acidly. "Well, well, well. 494 – I expected a speedy response to the abduction of your little brat, but I have to admit to being surprised at your…ah…_phenomenal_ ability to be in two places at once." White hazarded a glance over his shoulder and took in the scathing visage of the X5 behind him, "Or aren't you meant to be in Terminal City and not breathing down your son's neck?"

Alec snorted through his nose, face set like a flint as he kept his gun discreetly slammed into White's back, "Got this real weird premonition some old shit of a has-been was gonna stick his head outta the breeding cult hole and come crawlin' after my kid."

"Wait a minute!" Sharlie interjected angrily, keeping her voice to a hushed whisper as she surveyed the show-down in front of her with raging eyes, "494? _X5_-494?" She glared up at Alec in disbelief, "_You're_ Alec McDowell?"

"He _wishes_!" Brac's vehement rejoinder caused a wave of surprise to crash down on both Alec and White, "My dad is ten times better-lookin' then that X5 shit of a clone…I mean, c'mon, the short hair and the stubble?" He shook his head at Alec disdainfully, "Totally not his thing!"

"So it's true then?" Sharlie continued furiously as she grabbed Brac's collar and turned him to face her, "You're Brac _McDowell_?!"

"Apparently so!" He snapped and shoved her hands off his shirt before turning to glare up at White and Alec, both of whom were eyeing him sharply. Brac was fully aware that there would be no escape for him now – not without a lethal fight in the middle of the funeral suite. But he just hoped Alec would be smart enough to grasp the chance Brac was extending to him of getting out of there in one piece and bringing in the cavalry once his son's 'abductors' stopped running.

Sharlie was eyeing Brac with open-mouthed contempt and shock. He rolled his eyes, "What, not good-looking enough to fit the profile? Screw the rumor-mill, kid – they also said my dad's 6 foot 5 and my mom takes up pole-dancin' in her spare time!"

"I've had about enough of this crap." White snapped as he glared at the teenagers sitting on the couch and then at Alec behind him.

"Same here, so if you're gonna take me then for God's sake, make it snappy!" Brac stated, casting White an irritated expression and then rolling his eyes at Alec, "And as for you, 596," His green orbs throbbed with pleading warning at his dad as he adjusted his crutch and moved to stand, "If you _have_ to mooch off o' my dad's good looks, at _least_ pick your settings before you go strutting his stuff, you dumb fuck!"

Alec swallowed hard as he felt his tongue stick to the lid of his mouth. He watched Brac stand up and straighten out his jacket, every now and then casting him a caustic expression that belied the silent message in his eyes begging his dad to play along with the game. Alec felt helplessness churning inside of him. A part of him which occupied three-fourths of his brain - Alec the Parent – wanted to shoot White in the head, throw Brac over his shoulder and make for the ride he had waiting in the back lot of the Marriot.

The much more subdued but still present bit of Alec that made him X5- 494 – Alec the Soldier – was screaming at him to adhere to his son's beseeching. The situation was like a sensor-bomb. All it would take was one slight touch and the thing would explode in their faces. With a gun, in his present position, Alec was fairly certain he could take White down…this time for good. But then the odds of him and Brac making it out of the hotel would be slim to none.

Damn. When had Brac gotten too freaking smart for his own good?

"Am I supposed to be buying into the fact that you're _not_ X5 Smart-Alec four-nine-fucking-four?" White was barking at Alec as he kept his eyes trained on Brac.

"What, you think he was Ben's only clone?" Brac scoffed, attempting to keep Ames White's focus entirely on him and off of his father. One verbal spat between the men would be enough to blow the whole thing.

"No-one's asking you, you little shit." White responded brusquely as he lifted two fingers in a signal and a duet of non-descript but fierce-looking men in tuxedos ambled casually to step up on either side of Brac.

Alec felt his jaw lock so tightly that his lower set of teeth threatened to crack under the pressure. He narrowed his eyes into deadly slits as he found himself staring Ames White directly in the face. The man had turned and was raising his eyebrows at Alec with a triumphant sneer that made the X5 want to knock the man's nose clear out of joint.

"I'd put that gun of yours away, _596_." White stated with a smirk, "Don't want to call any...undue attention to our little fiasco."

Alec felt his blood boiling as he lowered his .45 and stared down the Familiar in front of him. White appraised him for a long, agonizing moment before he snorted.

"Huh. Guess the brat is right. 494 would've shot me where I stood."

"Not before he'd rearranged that piss-ugly mug of yours!" Brac's bravado was hollow and the disdainful, laissez-faire sneer he was sending his captors' way spoke volumes.

_Brac! Pipe down and let me handle this!_ Alec almost barked out the words, but he caught himself as White smirked once more and motioned for his stooges to escort Brac out of the suite. The boy rolled his eyes and muttered 'typical' as he limped between the two burly men and flashed Sharlie an apologetic grin.

"Sorry darling, but I'm gonna have to leave you with the knowledge that you _almost_ got a taste of the fine-ass male specimen that is Brac McDowell!"

Sharlie seemed to have gone into shock, as her mouth still hung open and her eyes had widened into saucers that were glazed over with disbelief and rage.

White laughed ironically once more as he turned his back on Alec and moved to stalk the pair of Familiars packing Brac towards the exit. Alec knew that he was almost shaking with rage, but when White placed a hand on his son's shoulder and whispered in his ear, that was it. The last fucking straw.

Alec lunged forward, gripping White's arm and shoving him aside with such lethal force that the man actually flew a few good feet before crashing into an ornate pillar. The Familiar henchmen whirled around, both placing a firm hand on either side of Brac's neck in a subtle yet menacing manner which would enable them to snap the boy's spine instantly.

"Stand down, 593!" Brac hissed in rebuke, scowling viciously at his dad over his shoulder, and sagging visibly as Alec shook his head and gripped his son's arm.

"_You_ stand down, kid, this is _not_ your decision to make!"

"My mission, my choice!" Brac snapped furiously, "You got a problem? Take it up with my C.O!"

"Damn it, Brac!" Alec thundered, "Just drop the martyr act or I'll clock you one myself!"

"Well my dad will spare you the trip once he gets his hands on me, but he has to _find_ me first!" Brac growled as he struggled against the grip of both captors and eyed Alec ruthlessly. "And your dead body on the evening news ain't exactly gonna help him do that! Catch my drift?"

Alec's green eyes were a crackling furnace and his eyebrows were narrowed heavily as he loosened his tight hold on his boy's jacket and felt the arm wrested away.

"Tell 494 if he wants his little brat back, I'm gonna be expecting him and his bitch of a mate to turn themselves over to the Conclave," White informed Alec with a cock of his head that inferred the man wasn't wholly convinced that he was not in fact speaking to X5 – 494, "and damn fast, too. They have twenty-four hours – or I'm gutting their son like the animal he is."

"He's gonna fucking tear out your heart and feed it to you if you lay a finger on that boy!" Alec stated in a soft, menacing tone as his green eyes bored into White's. The Familiar just smiled and nodded as his men hustled Brac towards a side door.

"If I only _had_ a heart," White dipped his head in a farcical show of politeness dripping with malice, "593."

Alec had never felt so helpless in his life. It was all he could to do watch, heart tearing itself to shreds and angst threatening to send his core into complete meltdown as his eyes followed the stoic figure of his son being led through a doorway – and then disappear from Alec's view entirely.

_Screw 24 hours, Brac – I'll have you back with us in ten. _

_And then I'm going to kick your fucking ass…_

Night had fallen huskily over Seattle and the clocks were chiming eight PM – 22 hours to deadline…

Alec and Max were trying…and failing, it might be added…to keep it together as they stood hunched over the myriad of papers and blueprints laid out across their kitchen table. Beside them, Mole, Rait, Luke, Dix, Joshua, and Tank attempted to devote their full, professional attention to the task at hand while daring to cast worried looks in the direction of the McDowells.

Nyx was hovering on the scene, her small frame draped in one of Alec's sweaters and a pair of sweat pants, arms folded over her chest and brown eyes which alternated between cold determination and desperate anxiety.

"I cased the building that they've got him in and the only plausible entrance I could come across was the ventilation system." Alec was tracing a gloved finger across a section of the blueprint, "Damn place's a freakin' maze."

"Where's our boy bein' held?" Mole's usual drawl had been replaced by a deadly calm tone which suggested that somebody, somewhere was going to die – and painfully, at that.

"The place is a Pre-Pulse munitions factory left derelict after the drop. According to his tracker…"

"It's still active?" Rait's voice heightened several decibels.

"And squealing like a bitch." Dix muttered from his position on a barstool studying a hand-held device which monitored Brac's wristwatch tracker, "Alec, Max, we got a little problem here!"

"What's wrong?" Alec and Max were hovering behind the nomalie in an instant, frowning at the red bleeping dot on Dix's screen which was beginning to throb alarmingly.

"Why the hell is it doing that?" Max fairly yelled the question as she attempted to snatch the monitor away from Dix, and the nomalie lowered it out of her reach with a scowl.

"It's just an overheat alert!"

"Damn straight it is." Alec was keeping a lid on his angst but his narrowed eyebrows belied that, "What happened? Was it gradual or did it just…"

"Kid's temp was runnin' stagnant this entire time and all of a sudden, bang!" Dix shook his head, "Just shot up real fast!"

"How's his heart rate?" Max queried, feeling the pounding of her own against her chest with barreling velocity.

"A little faster then normal, but not erratic," Dix frowned as he thumbed some buttons on the display screen and checked his assessment with a nod of satisfaction. "Seems okay to me."

"What kind of things shoot up a temperature like that?" Max ran a hand over her face and felt Alec's warm fingers cupping her shoulder, sending a tingle of relief coursing through her senses.

"If it hasn't damaged the tracker, it hasn't damaged Brac." He stated reassuringly as his hand moved up to the nape of his mate's neck and massaged softly.

"Not externally - but what about _inside_ of him?" Max snapped, and Alec shrugged.

"Ah Maxie, you know damn well that a wrecking ball the size o' Texas wouldn't make a dent in Brackie's cast-iron interior." Alec's placating grin and a final squeeze to his mate's shoulder had Max growling in annoyance.

She bit back a scathing remark (and a tightly-balled fist) as they returned their attention to the blueprints. Max knew that Alec's defense mechanisms had now kicked into full-swing. The X5's cocky smirk and careless manner had settled in and were most likely there to stay until the situation crested.

_Stupid, proud-ass bastard,_ Max blinked back tears and studied the map in front of her with a sudden zeal to avoid the drops spilling.

"Accordin' to his tracker, Brac's bein' held in the storage facility right here." Alec tapped a finger on the paper and the other transgenics leant in to survey the spot. "We'll send in three teams of two. Dix, Luke, we'll need you two to hotwire any surveillance they have runnin' in that building. I want any cameras dead for at least two hours."

"If they're there, Alec, we'll find'em."

"Mole and Rait, you two'll be on decoy duty. We don't have time to write out a plan for you – just use your deranged imaginations!"

"Can do. Our objective?" Rait swallowed a 'whoop' of glee at being designated her favorite task – wreaking havoc.

"Just a lot of fanfare. Fireworks, Chinese dragon dancing, a good ol' fashioned Yodel – don't care." Alec's green eyes still judiciously observed the spreadsheet, "Just get their attention and hold it for as long as you freaking can."

"How long d'ya need? C'mon, Big Daddy, reach for the stars here!" Mole was peering down the butt of his rifle as if to ascertain exactly how many bullets the damn thing could fire out at once if push came to shove.

Alec paused and glanced up at the roof, inhaling and holding the breath before he blew it out and exchanged a look with Max. She nodded, evidently on the same vein.

"We can do it in one hour, but you're givin' us two to play it safe."

"Who exactly would be 'us'?" Demanded Tank, casting Alec and Max a sharp glare which neither of the belligerent X5's cared for.

"Maxie and I are takin' the vent to the storage facility. Tanker, you and Josh are gonna be our tails. Any trouble crops up, you step in and take the reins." Alec returned the glare that Tank was throwing his way with a dirty expression of his own. "Your paramount objective is gettin' Brac outta there – you don't take any stupid risks with our safety. Max and I can take care o' our own freakin' selves! Got me?"

"I don't think so, Alec-boy." Tank couldn't help but frown, "It would be best if you avoid showin' your faces in this building…"

"Not happening, Tanker, so drop the freaking subject!" Max barked, and Alec placed a strong, protective arm around his mate's shoulders and threw a deadly grin at Tank.

"We've handed Ames his saggy White ass on more then one occasion, Tankie."

"Before you two start giving me your death glares," Tank admonished sourly as he placed both hands on the table and leant in to face down his fellow X5s, "may I remind you that White's sole purpose behind this stunt is gettin' you and Max in his greedy little claws!"

"Tank, this is not up for discussion!" Max yelled, slamming her fist down onto the table, eyes glistening with tears, "He's our boy – he's our only goddamned boy and we are _not_ standing by on the sidelines when it's our own damn faults he's in this mess!"

"Fine!" Tank stood down with a growl of frustration, "But," He stabbed a finger at the stubborn pair, "remember that Brac itching-for-a-fight McDowell followed White like a lamb so that Alec could live to tell the tale…"

"Damn right he did, and he's gonna get his sorry ass kicked for it once he gets home!" Alec stated flatly as he returned the point with a far more menacing one of his own, "Brac made that decision with _total_ disregard for _every_ rule of conduct laid out for him for this mission and I am _not_ gonna let you use his pig-headed stupidity as a tape-line to keep me and Maxie from doin' our jobs! You got me?"

Tank rolled his eyes, knowing full well that his obstinate friends were not going to budge an inch. "Fine. Next question: What about Jace?"

"I didn't see them take him." Alec shook his head, and his lips pressed together as his eyebrows narrowed sharply. "He wasn't with the group I tailed, at any rate."

"White must have him." Joshua interjected as he studied the mishmash of routes in front of him.

"Alec said he didn't see…" Began Rait, but Joshua scowled and actually growled, prompting the girl to raise her eyebrows and Max and Alec's heads to shoot up in alarm.

"Jace and Alec," Joshua was informing Rait sternly, "like brothers. Alec says 'watch out for my lil' fella', Jace watches. Doesn't leave – never leaves."

"I wasn't implying that." Rait huffed, "All I'm saying is that…"

"Joshua knows Alec Junior better then he knows himself!" Joshua continued as he towered over the small X6 to drive his point home, "Brac does what Brac wants to do. Not even Alec could stop him."

"Brac did what was best for the mission!" Nyx spoke up sharply from her corner as she scowled at the dog-faced nomalie of whom she was normally so fond.

"What he _did_ was step outta line and get himself caught" Mole frowned as he checked the number of rounds in his rifle, "Punk-ass kid walked right inta White's open arms and now the rest o' us have gotta risk our asses to bust _his_ outta hold!"

"You shut up about my brother, you stupid shit! You don't even freaking know him!" Nyx snapped back angrily.

"Nyxie! Pipe down!" Alec ordered sternly, and the girl crossed her arms and snorted, but did as she was told.

There was a tense silence ensuing, blanketing the air with oppressive quiet that burned like acid on the skin of all residing therein. Finally a clapping of hands shattered the tension.

"Right, people!" Alec chirped, "Let's do this! Movin' out in ten!"

"Done." The other transgenics scuttled off in the direction of their various preparations, leaving Alec, Max and Nyx to themselves for a fleeting moment of anticipated (on all three fronts) confrontation.

"I don't why the hell you let him talk like that about Brac!" Nyx's tone dripped with accusation as she shoved her hands onto her hips and glared at her parents.

"Because we happen to agree with him," Max responded tartly with a raise of her eyebrows.

"You can't be bleeding serious here!" Nyx didn't let her mother finish as she shook her head furiously, "Brac was salvaging the situation the _best_ way he knew how…"

"What, walkin' int'a White's wide-open arms?" Alec looked perfectly calm but his tone suggested otherwise, "Cuz that is _not_ 'the best way he knows how', Nyxie!"

Nyx scowled mordantly at her father, "Don't pretend you wouldn't have done the same freaking thing if yours and Brac's roles had been reversed!"

"If Brac's shoes were mine, I wouldn't have gotten outta sight for White to get a grab at me in the first place!" Alec retorted, bristling notably from the insinuation that he would have been as harebrained as his son.

"He was bein' _brave_…"

"He was also bein' _stupid_, and I swear if your brother pulls _one_ more stunt that gets him into danger, I'll bend him over the nearest available surface and use my freaking belt." Alec stated with a raise of his eyebrow on his features as he swept the blueprints into a backpack and handed Max a roll of papers while holding his daughter's gaze, "And Nyx, baby, same goes for you!"

"Ugh…"

I'm not playin' with you here!" Alec insisted as he held his daughter's gaze with a quiet tone and a matter-of-fact expression on his face, "Either you stay at Gem's and you don't even _breathe_ in the direction of her doors _or_ her windows, or the _minute_ I get home, I _will_ spank you. You understand me?"

Nyx went silent and her jaw dropped open. Alec seldom threatened his children at all – and when he did, it was _rarely_ with corporal punishment. Both he and Max categorically avoided it like the plague and even when it was inescapably warranted, the big softies did their best to weasel out of it or at very least pass the buck to and fro until one of them caved.

"Okay, fine! Sheesh." Nyx's hard resolve had melted and she looked on the verge of tears as she nodded and chewed on her lip, turning to leave. Her brown eyes had softened and the 'tough little girl' was emanating a magnetic pulse of fright which drew her parents close to her almost instantaneously.

"You gonna be okay, kiddo?" Alec's strong arms wrapped around his daughter from behind and held her tightly across her shoulders. Max's biker-gloved hand stroked her baby girl's head and a soft, pillowy pair of lips pressed down on Nyx's skull.

"I'm fine, you guys." Nyx muttered between grit teeth, patting Alec's arm obligingly. "Just get me back my brother so I can kick his ass myself."

"Ah Nyxie," Alec chuckle with a shake of his head as he gently knuckled his daughter's head, "We gotta find 'your brother' first."

Brac McDowell felt his nerves tingle with pulsating pain and the throb of his head as his skin burned and his body shook ever so slightly. He winced and glanced with bleary eyes at the twisted design slashed into his arm – the sign of the Conclave. It bore unwavering resemblance to the scar his mother bore on her wrist…the only one that had never faded.

_Stupid fucking fever_. Brac cursed himself for his weakness as his body was ravaged by another set of shakes and his temperature shot up another two degrees. He knew he was practically sizzling by now, but the hallucinations that had begun to set in had overridden most of Brac's senses.

White had cut him with the knife after kicking the shit out of him for mouthing off one too many times. The Familiar bastard had smiled malevolently as he pressed the sharp-edged design into Brac's arm and watched the boy's face contort with pain, though only a muffled curse had accompanied it.

"Tryin' to infect me, huh?" Brac had hissed between gritted teeth as he pulled against the restrains fastened against him, "It isn't gonna fucking work, Amsie! You've tried this shit on my sort before!"

White had just scoffed, "This _shit _is new and improved."

_New, hell yeah. Improved…I beg to differ_. Brac struggled to keep his thoughts succinct as he blinked away a trail of dotted blurs that obstructed his vision and swallowed convulsively. Through the haze of his eyesight, the boy made out three figures entering the large locker he was being held in, flooding it with light and causing him to wince.

"How's our little guinea pig doing, hmm?" White's voice pierced the bleary fire that was consuming Brac as he squatted down and yanked Brac's head back to get a better look at his features. "Pupils are dilated – temperature's at a roast. Excellent – but not satisfactory." He stood up and turned to the men beside him, "Let's add a little healthy pressure to the situation, shall we?"

Brac's heart stuck in his throat and he braced himself for an attack, but the men merely unhinged his handcuffs from the pole to which they were fastened and hauled him up. Brac cried out in pain as he was forced to put a heavy amount of pressure on his knee and felt his legs buckle under him.

"Stupid piece of trannie shit." One of the men growled, kicking him in the ribs with a steel-toed boot and sending a fresh streak of pain arcing through Brac's body. He then grumbled under his breath as he picked Brac up and threw him roughly over his shoulder.

Brac could barely retain his consciousness as he was carried like a sack of flour for a minute before being tossed on a cold, hard floor and having his wrists grabbed. Brac felt his eyes roll up into his head but he was shaken awake and slapped to ensure it as the men fastened some form of hook to his handcuffs.

"Let's see how you like the view!" One of the men chuckled gruffly as he cranked at a lever and Brac suddenly felt himself being hauled to his feet by his cuffed wrists. "I hear it's breathtaking to say the least!"

Confused and dazed, his mind and body on fire, Brac could do nothing to resist as a thick chain attached to the ceiling of the storage hall cranked round a lever and pulled at the hook on Brac's wrists. He screamed in pain as his handcuffs wrenched against his torn and bloodied skin and his feet left the ground. Higher and higher he was yanked until mercifully, about twenty feet up, the tugging stopped.

Brac struggled and twisted, caught in a blazing hallucination as his legs flailed erratically and his wrists screamed at him in protest. His mind and body were on fire and there was nothing he could do about to stave off the agony of the fever which ravaged his defenses.

The single burning thought which seared itself in Brac's mind was not one the average thirteen year-old boy would entertain in the current situation. No thoughts of his mother or father or a miraculous rescue. No thoughts of relief from the pain or surcease from the torture.

Only one thought blazed fiercely in Brac McDowell's throbbing head.

_I'm gonna kill all of them…every single fucking one. _

Ames White nodded at Thula as the well-built woman stalked into his makeshift office, her eyes like two glowing coals of fire boring holes into her superior.

"I said I was not to be disturbed!" White snapped, his tone laced with acid, and Thula squinted angrily.

"And _I_ said that me and mine aren't leavin' till the kid's dead – one way or the other!"

White rolled his eyes. He knew what Thula's 'other way' entailed. The Familiar Muscle Queen was banking, along with her disgraced comrades, on the death of Brac McDowell to avenge the humiliation of thirteen years previous. The team had spent those years working on an infallible upgrade of the dreaded virus that had threatened to wipe mankind off the face of the earth. Their sole aim had been to ensure that transgenics were _not_ immune.

The Conclave had encouraged Thula and her gang and even supported their efforts – although snide remarks regarding their fall from grace had been prominently strewn along the path. Thirteen years and several unfortunate transgenic guinea pigs later, and the 'new and improved' virus had been proven a success. What _hadn't_ proven successful up until this point had been abducting Brac McDowell. 494 and 452 had wisely built their children fairly satisfying lives inside of the protective walls of Terminal City.

Brac had made a grand total of eleven appearances outside of TC and each time he had been practically handcuffed to one (or both) of his parents. Eleven times the Conclave had attempted to bag him. Eleven times they had failed.

Thula would be damned if she let their _one_ chance at sweet revenge slide.

"Have you been to see him recently? Kid's as good as freaking dead…"

"Well that's not 'good' enough!" Thula barked.

"It'll have to be!" White raised an eyebrow and the not-so-subtle message between the lines read 'I really couldn't give a shit'. "If the kid dies from a fever, that's one thing. Other then that, a deal's a deal. He has to be alive when his parents hand themselves over."

"I'm prepared to wait it out!" Thula snapped as she crossed her muscular arms over her buxom chest.

"Well the Conclave ordered otherwise." White stated flatly, raising both eyebrows now and glaring challengingly at the woman standing over him. "The moment 452 and 494 are securely in hold, your team has orders to move out and return to your stations! Is that understood?"

"It's understood but not accepted!" Thula yelled, slamming a fist down onto White's desk. "My team worked our butts off to develop the virus! This is our fucking turf!"

"It's gonna be turf over your fucking heads if you don't follow your goddamn orders and leave the McDowell clan to me!" White roared as he stood up and leant his fists on the desk, eyes shooting daggers.

"The McDowell clan? Or just the son of 452?" Thula smiled acidly as she shook a finger at her fellow Familiar.

"Excuse me?" White raised his eyebrows threateningly.

"Oh don't play the innocent with me, Ames White. I know all about your lost little boy." Thula's smirk widened as she watched the man's face contort with anger at the mention of his son. "You never found him, did you? 452 whisked him away and now you wanna return the favor! Well…guess it's no wonder you want us out of the way…"

Thula got no further then a powerful fist connected sharply with her jaw and sent her head spinning to the side. She snorted and returned her gaze to centre, smiling and spitting blood.

"Oh…I hit a nerve?"

White was snarling, "Get the fuck outta my office."

Thula brushed a fingertip over her swelling lip and raised an eyebrow as she felt blood, "No problem there." She graced White with one more malevolent smirk before she turned and swiveled her hips, sauntering cockily out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

The Muscle Queen stalked down the dimly-lit hall and laughed to herself in triumph as she heard a slam and a loud 'Fucking hell!'

_Always were a goddamned emo bastard, White._ Thula shrugged and fingered the switchblade in her pocket as she sauntered down to the storage facility and punched in the access code.

She pushed open the heavy door and grinned as she took in the sight of the limp teenage boy dangling from the rafters.

"Come to Mama, Brackie-boy" Thula flipped her blade open and shut the door behind her, the smile on her lips thinning out even more as she toyed with the lever and lowered Brac to hang two feet from the ground.

"Aw…is poor baby a little sick?" Thula said soothingly, eyeing the sheet of sweat soaking Brac's skin and the trembling of his body, "You know in the ancient days," She held up the glittering knife with a smile, "the doctors used to bleed their victims to purge out the germs that were ravaging their bodies."

Thula licked her bleeding lip and eyed Brac up and down, adjusting her grip on the knife. Suddenly, she found herself staring into a pair of brilliant green eyes blazing with rage as strong legs wrapped themselves around her neck and held her fast.

"Yeah well you ain't a doctor, you whacked-out inbred whore!" Brac's voice was raspy and choked, barely more then a whisper. His shins clamped viciously together in a stranglehold on Thula's neck, and her eyes narrowed.

"No but I'm gonna bleed you anyway!" She growled, moving to stab the knife into Brac's leg, but a sudden sharp twist jarred her neck so violently that she nearly dropped the weapon.

"Not if I break your fucking neck!" Brac hissed, twisting his hips and repeating the move. Thula felt a nerve in her neck pull sharply and her knees as good as buckled.

"Ugh you son of a bitch!" She growled, knowing full well that Brac had positioned himself perfectly to make good on his threat.

"You know, my mother _really_ doesn't like it when you call her that!" Brac's bleary eyes were hard as ice, and he sneered as he swiveled his lower half violently. Thula's eyes widened in disbelief and her quick reflexes allowed her to plunge her knife into Brac's thigh before she fell, neck snapped, lifeless to the floor.

Brac stared at the blade buried to the hilt in his leg and wondered abstractly at why he hadn't felt the stabbing. The truth of the matter was that Brac's nervous system had been so badly pillaged by the fever that he was no longer in any pain whatsoever – which was why he had been able to perform the necklock he'd pulled on Thula without screaming himself hoarse from the unhealed fracture in his knee.

_Huh_, was Brac's final thought before he drifted into unconsciousness while staring at the blood pouring from his thigh, _that can't be very good_.

White shook his head to clear it from the rain of shattered glass and cursed loudly as he glared out of his broken window at the small group of preteen Ordinarys clutching bats and mitts and eyeing his building nervously. Turning to the object which had smashed into his office, White frowned deeply at the baseball and picked it up.

"Damn punk-ass kids!" He growled furiously and pulled out his cell phone. "White here. There's a group of hooligans out front…get them out of here!"

Mole grinned as he adjusted the headset in his ear, "Right away, Sir." He terminated the call and stepped over the unconscious body of the sentinel whose earpiece he had appropriated. Thumbing on his cell phone, Mole stepped out of the utility room and held it to his ear, "Time to play."

On the other end of the line, Rait took one final drag of her cigarette before flicking it away and crushing it under her boot as she hung up her phone and ambled over to the gang of youths who stood just outside of the run-down chicken wire fencing surrounding the Familiar fortress.

She pulled the black beret which White's security men were sporting further down her head and nodded at the leader of the crowd, a tall African boy in a bright yellow jersey. "Nice swing there, Terell."

He grinned, revealing a golden tooth, "In it for the money, baby-girl."

Sensing White's eyes on her from twenty yards away, Rait frowned and waved a hand at the kid, her body language as much as her facial expression suggesting Terell and his friends were receiving a stern warning to bugger off. "Best clear on out unless you're lookin' for a knuckle sandwich!" She yelled loudly, emphasizing her point with one of Alec's classic finger jabs.

Terrel's grin faded and he narrowed his eyes menacingly, advancing on the much smaller woman with a cocky swivel of his head, "What if I'm a lil' hungry, bitch? Huh? What the fuck you gonna do about it?" He made a dramatic show of 'in-your-face-ism' and raised his voice several octaves as he and Rait's noses practically touched.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do about it!" Rait was yelling, but from the soft-spoken girl it sounded a heck of a lot more like a squeal, "I'm gonna kick your fucking ass, that's what I'm gonna fucking do about it!"

"Oh yeah? Oh yeah?" Terell resisted the urge to laugh and shoved Rait in the chest, "Yeah, c'mon, bitch – give itcha best shot!"

Rait responded by slugging Terell in the nose and tackling him to the ground.

Mole resisted the urge to laugh as the airwaves crackled with White's outrage at the full-on war that was ensuing directly outside of his hideaway.

"Man down outside! I want somebody out there to clean up this freaking mess!" The Familiar roared as he watched Rait take a mean set of kicks from the youths that had crowded around her. "NOW!"

"We're on it, Sir!"

Mole recognized the barked out response as one of Thula's gang and nodded in satisfaction at the order of events so far. He moved his mike away from his lips and pulled out a cigar, gripping in his teeth and striking up a light with great pleasure.

"Let the games begin."

Max covered her ears and winced as a sharp, blaring noise grated with ear-splitting tenacity through the abandoned building.

"Shit! Is that an alarm?"

"Just a fire alarm." Alec was still shuffling resolutely through the ventilation shaft, ignoring the horrendously loud beep that was blaring through the piping. "Probably Mole and Rait havin' themselves a little fun! Don't worry about it – let's just get to Brac!"

Max scowled but did her best to follow her mate's advice as she continued on all fours through the metal shaft, a ponytail securing her hair that would otherwise be flapping to and fro in the cold breeze that blew through the vents.

"How much further?"

"We're here now." Alec's low rumble tapered off into a whisper as he peered through a vent under his palms, his night vision now in full operation as the building's flickering lights plunged into oblivion.

"Why'd the lights die all o' a sudden?" Max whispered with notable alarm as she scooted up beside her boy, watching as Alec unscrewed the ventilation face.

"Uh dunno. Most likely more o' Mole and Rait's grand stab at anarchy." Alec pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at Max's anxious face, "Uh ookay, who are you and what have you done with Max Guevara?"

"Shut up, Alec." She jabbed his shoulder with her own – the only sort of attack that their cramped circumstances allowed just then – and rolled her eyes at the blackness, "I just don't like it. What if there's actually a fire? This place could be riddled with pre-Pulse nukeheads or somethin' and a blaze could cause the whole thing to blow!"

Next to her, Alec scoffed as he continued to unscrew the metal grate that led into the storage room, "You could be right, Maxie! Or speakin' of the Pulse, what if another shockwave just hit the States and that's what blew the lights?" He ducked his head just in time to avoid the swipe of Max's gloved hand upside his skull, "Would you relax already? The whole thing's unnerving enough as it is!"

"Yeah well I work best under pressure!" Max barked under her breath as Alec pocketed the last of the screws and lifted the heavy grate without a hint of effort.

"That's why I'm always on top." He muttered one final retort before bracing his hands against the sides of the opening and lowering his head through for a quick scan of the room.

"Are we clear?" Max whispered with bated breath, and Alec's head resurfaced with a growl of annoyance.

"You know, you gotta learn to rephrase that question, cuz you sayin' the exact same lines twelve times in a row is kinda gettin' on my…"

"Just shut up and answer the question!" Max slugged Alec in the shoulder and positioned into a crouch that would allow her to spring through the hole if all was well.

"We're good to go." Alec informed her with a determined look on his face as he took the plunge and leapt through the opening, landing on his feet with perfect, silent feline grace. Max waited for his signal and on receiving it, followed suit.

The two X5s stalked carefully but swiftly through the deserted, darkened room, the cold glow of the pre-dawn sky casting an eerie hue over the rusted machinery and stockpiles of ammunition.

Max kept her centre of gravity low as she strode silently down a lane of crates, her eyes peeled for danger and her ears rigged for the steady breathing of her mate. Only another X-series could have picked up Alec's soft inhales and exhales as the pair moved in flawless sync to secure the room.

A sudden hitch in Max's breathing caused Alec to whirl around instantly and locate his girl. A single, shuddering word escaped Max's lips and had Alec blurring to her side from clear across the room in a heartbeat.

"Brac!"

Alec felt his heart skip a beat and his stomach twist with nausea as he followed Max's wide-eyed gaze to a corner of the storage room, where, suspended several feet off the ground by a rusty-looking chain, was a limp figure.

"Jesus!" The X5's rushed to their son's side, dark chocolate and blazing emerald eyes both flooding with tears of relief – and a set of powerful transgenic hearts thumping with dread.

Alec crouched down beside the body of the woman on the floor next to his son and narrowed his eyes as he recognized Thula. One look at the awkward angle of her neck and the expression of disbelief on her face told him all he needed to know.

Max cradled Brac's unconscious, sweat-soaked face in her hands and nearly pulled them away almost instantly as her fingertips connected with his skin. "He's burning up!" She hissed to Alec desperately as her mate worked to disengage Brac from the large iron hook.

"Shit!" Alec's sharp intake of breath caused Max's eyebrows to tilt further upward in alarm as he took hold of one of Brac;s wrists and took a closer look at one of the many lacerations that graced it. "Max, look at this."

Max narrowed her eyes as she gazed at the Conclave cut. "But… it doesn't work on us!" It was more of a question then she'd wished it to be.

Alec shook his head as his jaw grit with fury, "Brac!" He barked at his son, the tone in his voice pleading with the boy to respond as Alec worked to free him.

"Brac, c'mon, look at me!" Max lifted Brac's chin and checked his pulse before shaking his shoulders and feeling a tear roll down her cheek. "Brac, it's me! It's…"

She got no further. Her eyes widened as Brac's legs gripped her neck tightly in a stranglehold and Max felt the deadly pressure on her spine.

"I know who you are, you breeding cult piece of shit!" Brac's words were raspy and hoarse and his eyes, half-open slits, were glazed over with a deadly haze that suggested the fever had robbed him of true sight for the moment.

"Brac, it's me! It's Mom…ah!" Max gripped Brac's shins as they twisted ever so slightly and sent a searing pain arcing down her spine.

"Brac!" Alec's strong arms wrapped around his son from behind, grabbing the insides of his thighs and prying them apart. "Brac, it's Dad! I'm here, I've got you! C'mon buddy, it's us! Let go o' your mom and let's get outta here!" Alec's chin rested on Brac's shoulder and he spoke the words into his son's ear.

Brac twisted away. "I'll kill you all!" He screamed, struggling fiercely to retain his grip on Max's neck, "I'll kill you and rip your teeth out of your fucking mouths! I swear I'll do it if you don't let me go, I swear…"

"Brac, please!" Max was crying now, not from the pain in her neck but the agony in her heart as she broke free of Brac's death grip and he began to kick out desperately.

"No! Get your hands off; get them the fuck off of me!" Brac was yelling himself hoarse, and Alec managed to hold his wrists still long enough to finish his work on the handcuffs and catch his son up in his arms as the boy fell like a sack of squirming potatoes.

Despite Brac's violent thrashing, Alec held him tightly against his chest and ran, Max in tow, to the corroded Fire Exit door at the end of the room which had automatically unlocked at the grate of the alarm. "Max, the door, now!"

Max didn't argue with the sudden change in plan as she smashed her shoulder into the rusty old door several times and shoved it open with a final kick. Brac was evidently in no condition to be shimmying across rafters and ventilation shafts. Max just thanked her lucky stars that Tank and Joshua, their shadows, had taken stock of the situation instantaneously and were waiting outside with a set of motorbikes and totting sawed-offs.

"Take these and go!" Tank yelled as he helped Alec settle Brac onto the front of a bike and swing on behind him, "We'll hold off the dogs for you, just put some serious mileage into it!"

"Lil Fella! Here!" Joshua's huge hands gripped Max's arms and quickly placed her onto the other bike, "Hurry! White's men will be here soon!"

"What about you guys?" Max queried between short, quick breaths as she fired up the ignition and followed Joshua's line of vision to a hastily-hacked hole in the chicken wire large enough for their escape.

"We'll be fine!" Joshua barked as he cocked his gun and nodded at Max, "Go!"

Max nodded and gulped, "Joshua..."

"Max, let's _go_!" Alec's bike roared into action and he sped it through the gap in the fencing, Max's vehicle hot on his tail and the sound of gunshots ringing in their ears.

They didn't find out the full story of what transpired after their getaway until the following day. But as worried as Alec and Max were about their comrades, the most prominent fear raging in their minds was the condition of their son.

The X5s hadn't dared to stop until they'd reached the hospital. They hadn't paused a moment as they'd left their bikes with smoking engines in the lot and barged into Accident and Emergency, barking out orders and demanding instant attention for Brac.

Max and Alec hadn't stopped to catch their breath as they ran alongside the trolley carrying their sick and hallucinating child to the Intensive Care Unit, answering questions and refusing to leave Brac's side. The Heads of the International Transgenic Union hid their terror beneath a cloak of brusque commando as they hovered anxiously by Brac's bedside and watched helplessly as the doctors worked feverishly to bring his temperature down.

Alec issued orders, screamed himself hoarse, collared the head of the viral unit when the man dared to shake his head. Alec then proceeded to attach himself firmly to the helm of Brac's bed as the doctors did their work, running trembling fingers through his son's matted hair and pleading, _ordering_ Brac to fight it, to make it through or his dad would kick his ass.

Max fought to derive comfort from Logan's soothing presence as their old friend arrived on the scene in record time after a desperate phone call. Max stared blankly at the forms in her lap and tried her best to listen to Logan's insistence that everything was going to be alright, that Logan had the nation's finest experts on transgenic health working double time on Brac…that their boy was as strong and as stubborn as his parents and would pull through just fine.

And then Brac's heart-rate monitor flat-lined.

That was when Max and Alec broke.

"Bring him back! Bring him back, he's not dead - you hear me?!" Max screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shook one of the nurses till the woman's teeth chattered.

"Charging…charging…"

Eyes wide with disbelief, Alec allowed himself to be shoved back from the bed as Brac's t-shirt was torn open and doctors with a set of jump-starts came to the fore.

"Clear!"

Brac's body arched as the electric current surged through him.

"No response! Charge again!"

"Charging…"

Max charged forward, only to be grabbed by Logan and crushed into his chest as she sobbed violently. Alec stumbled against the wall in a daze, eyes glued to his son as the heart machine continued to drone out death.

"Clear!"

"Brac McDowell, you get your ass back here _now_! This is _not_ the end, you hear me, kid?" Alec's roar caused every person in the room to jump and cast fearful glances his way. The X5's eyes were burning and filling up with tears as he pushed his way back to Brac's bedside and continued to yell at his son who was arching against the pads once more. "NOW! I won't fucking say it again, Brac!"

To the utter amazement of the room's occupants, the heart-rate monitor began to bleep steadily once more. Alec buried his face in Brac's hair and sobbed openly with relief. Max tore from Logan's grasp and joined her mate, soaking Brac's already drenched, tangled locks in grateful tears.

Their eyes were red and bleary from lack of sleep and five of the most stressful hours of their lives when they greeted the head doctor monitoring Brac's progress. Max sat up from where she had been resting her head in Alec's lap, blinking back sleep and ignoring her disastrous ponytail as she scrambled to her feet, Alec's arm around her shoulders.

"How's he doing?"

The doctor raised his eyebrows at clipboard in his hand, "Well there haven't been any further problems with your son's heart rate, and we've managed to stabilize his condition."

"What's the fever like?" Alec queried, rubbing his face and looking for a brief moment like he was thirty seven instead of thirty four.

"Still too high for my tastes." The doctor was about to shake his head but caught sight of Alec and Max stiffening and changed his mind, "The virus took a slam at Brac's antibodies and rendered his immunity virtually useless…"

"Would a blood transfusion work?" Max queried, and the doctor nodded.

"If your blood types are identical, I believe fresh antibodies would be all that's needed to do the trick. That and the patient's will to live – but," the doctor smiled at Alec, "I have a feeling after the tongue-lashing he received, your son's not going anywhere."

"Yeah well Brac was never very good at followin' orders." Alec said briskly and then sighed heavily, "So let's go with the transfusion to be safe."

"I'll do it." Max stepped forward, and Alec joined her in her stride.

"So will I."

The doctor narrowed his eyes, "A healthy shot from one of you should be sufficient…"

"Then imagine what two of'em will do." Alec held the man's gaze stonily and brushed past him, gripping Max's elbow reassuringly as they headed to the ward where Brac was being treated.

When Tank and Joshua burst into the dorm later on after handing a protesting Jace over for treatment, they came across a sight that took their breath away and made them want to laugh and cry all at once – Max and Alec seated on opposite sides of Brac's bed, both fast asleep with their heads resting on their son's sleeping frame.

A scary-looking set of tubes were pumping blood from the X5s into their son's veins, and Brac was soaked in a fine sheet of sweat that suggested his fever had broken. The boy's breath moved in sync with his parents' as Alec's broad arm cradled his neck protectively and Max's leather-clad hands clasped her boy's naked, blooded ones tightly.

Tank heaved a sigh of relief and nudged Joshua. "Well, since everything's under control, Big Fella, what say we grab some coffee?"

Joshua was smiling broadly at the three sleeping forms in front of him – the closets thing he had to a family. "Alec and Max will want some too."

Tank grinned and rubbed at some dried blood on his forehead as he led Joshua away, "Then we'll get it to go."

To Be Continued…


End file.
